tarai_chroniclesfandomcom-20200215-history
Waiss
They say always to help a struggling fellow upon the road, for the eyes of Waiss look kindly upon such acts. Waiss, called the wanderer, the rogue and sometimes the trickster, is part of the Tarai Pantheon of gods. Most imagery of Waiss casts him as a slender elven man wearing a traveler's cloak over a tunic, using a stave as a walking stick and carrying a satchel slung over his shoulder. He is sometimes said to take the form of a lop-eared dog. Waiss is associated with adventure, freedom, and travelling, and is said to constantly encourage followers to acts of heroism. While he is cunning and many stories of Waiss depict him as a deceptive sort, he is altruistic at heart, and truly courageous. Waiss' domains are Travel, Freedom, and Trickery, his holy weapon is the stave, and his symbols are the satchel and the compass. He is often depicted alongside a fox - a frequent component of Waiss' stories, but this is not explicitly one of his symbols. The Wager and the Flagon One day, Waiss, most tired of having to walk up and down mountains and put his hands in the dirt, decided he needed a walking stick - but not just any walking stick, the kind which could double as protection, for the most dangerous weapon is the one your enemies cannot see. And so Waiss came to Moradin and requested the smith god to craft him a stave durable and sturdy. However, Moradin, mistrustful of Waiss' most devious ways and busy with his children the dwarves, said that he would not craft such a thing for Waiss. The wanderer, disappointed, left. Returning the next week, he asked again if Moradin would craft him a stave, saying that he would owe his fellow a favour. Moradin once more said no, and that he did not want anything that Waiss may have to offer him. For a third time, one week later, Waiss returned, a gleam in his eyes. "Great Moradin, if you will not listen to my requests, then perhaps instead you will agree to a wager?" "What manner of wager, trickster? I shall not make a game of chance with you, nor journey far. You are underhanded, and shall not play to the rules." And at this, Waiss laughed most raucously. "You are so very suspicious of me, great Moradin! No, my simple challenge is this; a drinking contest until one man can simply no longer stand. If I win, you craft me a stave." "And if I win?" "I will give many of my secrets to your children the dwarves, and bless them with great fortune upon their expeditions." And so the contest commenced, lasting for many long days. Waiss was known for his ability to drink, but so too was Moradin, and of course, for the dwarves imbibing is of second nature. However, as the contest stretched onward, Waiss's tolerance began to appear unthinkable - one so slight and slim matching the dwarf god and seemingly showing no signs of stopping. After a year of drinking, at last Moradin could drink no more and slid into a slumber from which it took him a week to awaken. Grudging and disbelieving, Moradin nevertheless honoured his side of the deal, and began to forge a stave most wondrous for Waiss. Exultant, Waiss departed Moradin's hall in order to await his stave. Returning to the forests, he could not resist speaking of his exploit to his friend the fox. "But how?" wondered the fox. "How could you have accomplished such a thing?" And Waiss's laughter rang out across the trees. "Why, I shrank down my satchel and concealed it inside of my mouth," he proclaimed. "When I drank, I simply poured the ale into my satchel. In this way, I did not become drunk at all, and outlasted Moradin." And the fox admired Waiss's cunning. However, the fox too was cunning, and had a long memory. The fox remembered when Waiss had played a trick upon it and tied its tail to a tree whilst it slept, then shocked it awake, pulling off its tail as it bolted and looking quite foolish until it was reattached. The fox did not forget this, and decided to tell Moradin of Waiss's trickery. The dwarf god, enraged, nearly broke the stave he had made in two, but could not bring himself to destroy it, for he had worked long and hard in its craft. Instead, he thought of a plan of his own. Waiss was summoned to receive the stave, and he was most pleased as he laid eyes upon it; the stave was as wondrous as he had imagined and more, and he thanked Moradin for his labours. The smith god was modest, and told Waiss that he merely must take the stave from its place as it stood cooling by the forge. Eagerly, Waiss seized the stave, and all at once was assailed from above as an enormous flagon of Moradin's design descended upon him and trapped him underneath. Kept there for thirty days and thirty nights, Waiss was at last freed, and his laughter was merry at Moradin's trick, conceding that they both could be successful at one another's games.